By Nicole Falco
A lifelong resident, Libath witnessed the sale of each farm, the paving of every road and the building of more than 10 schools to accommodate the community's booming population. The small town of his youth became a village of 40,000, but, for Libath, Valley Stream never stopped being a small town. After his retirement, he devoted himself to the Pagan-Fletcher Restoration, a significant piece of the community's small-town history.
Libath died on Oct. 11 of respiratory failure in Mercy Medical Center in Rockville Centre. He was 85.
In his lifetime, Libath touched thousands of lives in the community, as a volunteer with more than 3,000 hours logged at Franklin Hospital Medical Center, an usher for 40 years at Grace United Methodist Church, a past president and lifetime trustee of the Valley Stream Historical Society, a past president of the Valley Stream Central High School Alumni Association, a Mason and an ex-captain of Rescue Company #1 on Rockaway Avenue.
Even when he and his wife of 59 years, Agnes, traveled, they always seemed to run into someone they knew. Besides being volunteers in the community, both worked there as well - Agnes for the library and Libath as a vice president at Sid Harvey Industries for 50 years.
For all of his community involvement, Libath may best be remembered for his devotion to the renovation of the restoration on Hendrickson Avenue.
"There are many people who make up the heart of the [Valley Stream] Historical Society, but he was really the soul," said Carol McKenna, historical society president. "I can't help but feel that not only does the society weep, but the [Pagan-Fletcher Restoration] weeps."
Libath's dedication to the restoration began in his youth, when he delivered newspapers to the Fairchild family, the residents of the restoration at the time. He said he would live there one day and, in a way, the restoration became an extension of his home, according to his daughter, Nancy Zorn.
Until he took sick a few months ago, Libath spent a part of almost every day volunteering at the restoration as a member of the historical society. He was responsible for planting every year, and he grew marigolds and geraniums in his cellar to prepare for spring. "If you go by there now you can see his marigolds out there in full bloom," said Jim Buckley, chairman of the board of the historical society.
Karen Selah, past president of the society, said she and others would often say, "He can do anything he wants. This is his house." Selah and McKenna both called Libath "irreplaceable."
The restoration, a landmark, is maintained by the historical society. Bought by the village in 1977 for $47,000, it had been allowed to deteriorate since the Fairchilds had sold it 30 years earlier. The historical society raised $100,000 for the restoration, but the project, which was supposed to have been completed with the help of the village, kept getting put on hold. When bids were finally received, the estimated cost was well over $500,000, which was much too high.
Work finally began in 1989, with Libath as the driving force. He worked alongside other historical society members, including Buckley and Joe Gunther, painting and doing carpentry work. Whatever they couldn't do themselves, like plumbing and electrical work, Libath convinced contractors to donate their time or work for cost. The fully restored restoration was open to the public in 1992.
"He was so dedicated to that building ... he certainly was a great fella to work with," Gunther said. "His contribution to that building is unmeasurable."
A meeting room in the restoration was named in Libath's honor and dedicated in May 1997.
The restoration is open to the public every Sunday from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m., but was closed Oct. 12 out of respect for Libath, and the flag outside was flown at half staff.
Ironically, though it was a large part of his life, Libath, an original member of the historical society, which was chartered in 1974, might not have become a member if it weren't for his wife's insistence. Last January Agnes told the Herald, "This is very important for him, to be a part of this, because he is a native Valley Streamer."
Actually, Libath's family moved here when he was 4. He grew up on East Avenue and worked on Raisig's Farm, debugging crops and pulling weeds. He attended elementary school in District 13 and then Central High School, where he wrestled and played football, in which he was named All Scholastic. He graduated in 1938.
Libath's love of his alma mater was evidenced by his commitment to the alumni association. Using calligraphy, an art he had studied briefly, he inscribed members' names on their membership cards.
Libath was also a good friend. Among his countless friends were many schoolmates, including Joe Bergen, Buckley, Gunther, the late "Bep" Chvatal, Bert Keller and John Mahoney. At the alumni association's annual dance, held the evening he died, Bergen led those in attendance in a moment of silence for Libath.
Marge Chvatal recalled how Libath was one of a group of Bep's friends who would come to reminisce and have lunch with him after a stroke left him confined to a wheelchair.
The Rev. Robert Howard, former pastor of Grace Church, came from Connecticut to preach at Libath's funeral. In his sermon, Howard spoke of his admiration for Libath's "affection and loyalty" to a long deceased friend, Owen Salvage.
Even 60 years after Salvage's death, Libath would still struggle to maintain composure when remembering his childhood friend and classmate, who was killed in World War II. The two enlisted together shortly after Pearl Harbor. When Libath, a liaison pilot in the 9th Airforce Division stationed in Europe, returned to Valley Stream after the war, he took care of Salvage's family, particularly his father.
Libath also returned from the war with a bride. He and Agnes, who's originally from Virginia, were married in 1944. According to their daughter, Zorn, the two never would have met if Libath hadn't taken sick. While recovering, he was stationed in Virginia.
Almost everyone who knew him recalls Libath as a gentleman. His quiet, gentle way was evident in his devotion to his wife, according to Zorn and her husband, Tom. "He always held the door for her," Tom Zorn said. "He always put her coat on."
Bergen said, "I don't ever remember him not being a gentleman."
Zorn said that anything her father did, he was passionate about, whether it was volunteering, gardening, woodworking, working on his stamp and coin collections or making the "best" New England clam chowder, which he learned while working "down Jones Beach."
"I think that's what finally got to him - he knew he wouldn't be able to do all the things he loved to do," Zorn said.
Besides his wife, Zorn and her husband, who live in Severna Park, Md., Libath is survived by a sister, Mildred Fitzpatrick of Jacksonville, Fla., another daughter, Marcia Gontarski and her husband, Stanley, of Tallahassee, Fla.; a son, Tedd, and his wife, Barbara of East Hampton; grandchildren Jane Posner and her husband,Jonathan, Rebecca Stryker and her husband, Ethan, and Jessie, Cassandra, Katie and Jason Libath, and Teddy, Britney and Kyle Zorn; and great-grandchildren Dylan and Chloe Posner and Timothy Stryker.
